Reflections
by Mudblood
Summary: As Harry watches his newborn son sleep, he thinks over the months leading up to the child's birth. (Mpreg implied)


DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
Harry looked down into the bassinet, and smiled at the sight of his sleeping son. It was difficult for him to believe that only two days ago that child had been inside of his own body. If somebody had told him a year ago that he would be a father, or that he would carry the baby, he would have laughed in their face. He was only sixteen, and not quite ready for the responsibility of a child, but now that it was a reality he wouldn't trade it for anything. In the two days that his son had been in the world, he had quickly become the center of Harry's life. It just didn't seem possible, or real, that the baby was finally here, after months of waiting and planning. To him it seemed as if he had only just found out that he was having a baby.  
  
*flashback*  
  
Harry woke up feeling groggy and sore, and having no idea what was going on. As his eyes came in to focus and he took in his surroundings, he realized he was in the hospital wing. After thinking for a moment, it all came back to him. The Quiddich game, the bludger flying at him, falling from his broom and hitting the ground hard, barely registering that he did indeed have the snitch in his hand before blacking out. Harry went to reach for the bedside table, trying to find his glasses, and let out a groan as pain shot through his body. The noise must have alerted Madame Pompfrey to the fact that he was awake, because the next moment she was standing over him.  
  
"Mister Potter, it's about time. You've been out cold for hours. Had the entire Gryffindor house in an uproar. You had me worried sick. I can't believe you, Mister Potter. What were you THINKING being out there? Granted, you're normally rash and impulsive, but I would have thought that even you would have more sense than to play Quiddich in your condition," The medi-witch babbled on as she bustled around his bed.  
  
"My . . .condition?" Harry asked as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He had NO clue what she was talking about.  
  
"Your pregnancy, Mister Potter. You could have KILLED your child with your foolishness."  
  
"M-my PREGNANCY? What are you TALKING about?"  
  
"You're pregnant, Harry. With child. You're going to be having a baby."  
  
"What do you MEAN I'm pregnant? H-how . . .? Is that even POSSIBLE? Are you sure?"  
  
"I don't know how it happened, but it happened. I had to perform a diagnostic spell to find out where you were injured, and it showed up clearly. My guess is that you're about six weeks along. You mean to tell me you didn't know?"  
  
"Of COURSE not! How could I? Boys don't usually get pregnant! And if I HAD known, I sure as hell wouldn't have been on a broom, especially not playing Quiddich. Contrary to what you may believe."  
  
"Of course you wouldn't, I'm sorry I implied otherwise," The older witch apologized to him. "I understand this is all quite a shock for you. If you want, there are ways . . .potions that can be taken . . .that can 'take care of' the problem."  
  
"You mean . . . kill it? I can't do that. I can't punish an innocent for my mistakes. Thank you, but no."  
  
"If you're sure, Mister Potter, it was only a suggestion. Is there . . .anyone you would like for me to have come down so you can let them know, the other father perhaps?"  
  
"No . . .there is no other father," Harry whispered softly. He knew who was responsible for this, but he wasn't going to make the other man suffer as well. This would be Harry's problem to deal with, nobody else's."  
  
"Very well. You do know I'll have to inform the headmaster about this, and he will need to inform your professors. There are certain things you won't be able to do, to prevent anything happening to the baby."  
  
Harry nodded and turned his face away from her. In that moment, he was ashamed of himself, and of the predicament he was in. So many people expected better of him, and here he was, a pregnant teenager.  
  
*end flashback*  
  
Thankfully, nobody had condemned or shunned him. Nobody had been disappointed in him, or if they were they didn't vocalize it. They had been worried about him and of course they were curious about who the father was, but he refused to let them in on that little secret. The other father had figured it out and confronted him. Harry hadn't denied it and the other man had wanted to make it publicly know who he was, but Harry had talked it him out of it. Harry didn't want to ruin the other man's reputation, Harry's embarrassment was enough, there was no need to add to it.  
  
The baby stirred in his sleep and Harry laid a comforting hand on his tiny back, rubbing gently in small circles. After a moment, a small sigh escaped the baby's lips and he settled back in to a deep sleep. Harry watched his son intently, taking in every breath that the baby made. He was thankful that he even had the baby, he had almost miscarried at one point in time.  
  
*flashback*  
  
Harry sighed in exhaustion and reached for the next ingredient he needed to add to the day's potion assignment. This was his last class of the day, and then he could go back to his room and collapse on his bed. He was in his fourth month of pregnancy, and still suffering from extreme fatigue. Madame Pompfrey told him it was normal, and not to worry about it, but it was still annoying to him. He was having enough problems keeping his pregnancy from the rest of the student population, without having to make excused as to why he was always so tired.  
  
As he brought his hand back down, his elbow caught on the edge of his cauldron and dumped it over, spilling it's contents down the front of him. Harry watched in horror as the liquid covered him, and then proceeded to absorb into his skin. His eyes grew wide and he looked up, frantically searching for his potions professor.  
  
"P-professor Snape?"  
  
"Yes? What is it, Potter?" The potions master snapped at him in his customary annoyed tone.  
  
"I-I've had an accident sir."  
  
"What KIND of accident, Potter?"  
  
"I've . . .spilled my potion."  
  
"Then clean it up. Don't bother me, expecting me to do it for you."  
  
"No sir, I've spilled it ON me, and . . .it absorbed . . .into my skin."  
  
In less time than it took to blink, Professor Snape was standing next to Harry's desk, looking at the remnants of the potion, the instruction sheet, and the ingredients laid out across the desk.  
  
"How much of the potion had you completed before you spilt it?" Professor Snape snapped at him, a concerned expression plain on his normally featureless face.  
  
"I had all of the ingredients in except the sunflower roots, the powdered snake fang, and the dandelion seeds, sir."  
  
The professor's expression became a grim one, and he immediately snapped into action. He hurried to the back of the room, and began looking frantically through his store of pre-made potions as he spoke to his students.  
  
"Class in dismissed for the day, read the next chapter in your book and write a twelve inch summary on it. Granger, Weasley, go to the hospital wing and get Madame Pompfrey, tell her she is needed down here immediately."  
  
The class started blankly at him for about ten seconds, before deciding to follow his instructions before their professor changed his mind. They all grabbed their supplies and hurried out of the room, many of them shooting concerned looks at Harry on their way out.  
  
Harry, on the other hand, didn't take his eyes off of Snape. Something must have been terribly wrong to have affected the normally composed man like this.  
  
"Professor, what is wrong? What's happened?"  
  
"What you were to have been making today was a simple sleeping potion, one that would have no ill effects. However, with the ingredients that were left out, you have made a potion that would normally be used to terminate a pregnancy. You may very well have succeeded in killing your child." The professor explained as he approached Harry, a vial full of some sort of clear thick liquid in his hand. "Here, drink this, quickly."  
  
Harry's eyes grew wide in fear and panic, and his hand flew instantly to his slightly swollen stomach. He had finally come to terms with the fact that he was pregnant, and now he may have caused the death of his baby before it had even had the chance to take it's first breath.  
  
*end flashback*  
  
Fortunately for Harry and the baby, Professor Snape's quick thinking had saved the unborn child. Through out the years, there had been a few cases of teenage pregnancies, and the potions master had taken to keeping a supply of potion to prevent miscarriage. If not for that small fact, Harry would not have his son today.  
  
As he thought back on this, and realized that he had come so close to losing his son before he'd ever really had him, Harry had the overwhelming urge to hold the baby in his arms. He leaned over and gently picked the baby up from the bassinet, careful not to wake him. As he held his son in his arms, and ran a finger lightly down a tiny cheek, Harry thought back two days ago, to the day the baby had been born.  
  
*flashback*  
  
Harry walked slowly and carefully into the Hospital Wing, Ron and Hermione flanking him on either side. He had been feeling strange all day, and after dinner Ginny Weasley had told him to go see Madame Pompfrey. At first, Harry had put up a fight, not wanting to bother the medi-witch for nothing, but finally his two best friends had talked him into going and just have her check him out. Sometime between leaving the Gryffindor tower, and arriving at the Hospital Wing the slight fluttering in his abdomen had become a dull ache.  
  
"Mister Potter? What is it, are you alright?" Madame Pompfrey flitted out of her office at the sight of the three young students walking into the room.  
  
"I don't know. I've been feeling odd all day. My stomach was fluttering, and now it's aching. Everyone thought I should come see you and make sure the baby is okay."  
  
"And with good reasoning. How many times do I have to tell you, if anything . . .ANYTHING . . .seems out of the ordinary, come see me IMMEDIATELY?"  
  
"I know, I know. But I really didn't think it was a big deal."  
  
"Not a big deal, indeed," The old medi-witch scoffed. "Miss Granger, Mister Weasley, help him to the bed in the far back corner, please. I'll be back in just a moment."  
  
She scurried back into her office, and the trio could hear her digging through drawers and grabbing things off of shelves. By the time she emerged five minutes later Harry was laying back on the bed, running his hands over his extremely swelled belly.  
  
"Yes, very well. You may leave now, you two."  
  
"But . . . " Hermione began to protest. She was worried about her friend and did not want to leave him.  
  
"I said leave, Miss Granger. Harry is in labor, and we don't need an audience here now. I will make sure you and Mr. Weasley, as well as the rest of your house, is informed as soon as the baby is born."  
  
Hermione nodded and kissed Harry's forehead quickly, promising to come and see him and the baby as soon as she was allowed, and hurried out of the room. Ron just gave a quick nod in Harry's direction and followed her hastily.  
  
"I -I'm in. . .in . . . labor?" Harry stuttered as he watched Madame Pompfrey scurry around him. "But I'm still three weeks from my due date. You weren't supposed to deliver the baby for another week."  
  
"It doesn't matter, Harry. I know the signs, you're in labor. We need to get the baby out before it tries to come out on it's own."  
  
Harry nodded and lay back against the pillows on the bed as the older witch exposed his stomach. She had explained to him long ago that he could not deliver the baby on his own, if he tried it would kill him. Instead, she would perform a surgical spell that would create an opening in his stomach, allowing her to remove the baby from him.  
  
"Okay, Mister Potter, I'm going to numb you now." Pompfrey explained as she injected something into his abdomen. A few minutes later, his stomach felt oddly tingly and cold. "I'm going to begin now."  
  
It was a strange sensation. After Madame Pompfrey spoke the spell, he could feel his stomach ripping in half, but it wasn't painful. After each layer, the medi-witch would add another numbing spell or potion, before doing another spell to cut through more of his skin, muscle, and tissue. Harry found himself having a strange desire to look down and see what was happening to his body, but Madame Pompfrey had put up a spell to block his view. Finally, after a few minutes, she spoke again.  
  
"I'm at the womb now, Harry. When I break the water sack, you'll feel it and then shortly after that, the baby will be out. After the baby is out, I'm going to care for it before mending you back up. I've done some anti- bleeding spells, but you still mustn't move around too much. Okay?"  
  
Harry nodded his agreement, then felt a slight jab of pain and a great release of pressure. Seconds later he watched as Madame Pompfrey hurried across the room to a make-shift nursery bed, a tiny blood covered body in her arms. He tried to see the baby as she worked to clean it up, but her body blocked his view. Less than two minutes later, the wonderful sound of his baby's first cries filled the room, and Harry's face broke out in a huge smile.  
  
The medi-witch bundled the baby up in a blanket and turned around, cradling it in her arms. She waved her wand in Harry's direction, and the incision on his stomach instantly closed itself. Then, she looked at Harry, a watery smile playing across her face.  
  
"You can sit up now, Harry. I have someone here whom I think would like to meet you." She told him in a soft, soothing voice. Harry did as he was told and seconds later was rewarded as she lay the tiny bundle into his arms. "Congratulations, Mister Potter. You have a beautiful baby boy."  
  
"Boy? My son?" Harry whispered as he gazed into the baby's face, tears of joy streaming down his own cheeks. The little boy had stopped crying as soon as he was placed in his fathers arms and he yawned before opening his eyes and then closing them again. Harry smiled as he realized his son had inherited the eyes of his other father, and he ran a finger along the baby's face before kissing him gently.  
  
*end flashback*  
  
"Harry, it's time for you to go to bed, you need your sleep. J.D. will still be there in the morning, I promise."  
  
Harry looked up at saw Sirius standing in the door, leaning against the door frame with his arms folded across his chest. He smiled sheepishly at his godfather, before looking back at the sleeping baby in his arms.  
  
"I can't help it, he's so perfect, I never want to stop looking at him. How did you know I was up anyway?"  
  
"I could hear you moving around," Sirius explained as he walked into the room and over to stand at Harry's side. "He is a bit of a cutie, isn't he? Reminds me a lot of you when you were just born."  
  
"Really?" Harry asked in surprise. Even though this was his son, it had never occurred to him that the baby might look like him.  
  
"Yes, really. And your father was just like you are, never wanting to put you down. But no matter how much you want to hold him, you need your rest. Taking care of a baby is no easy task, and you are going to start your tutoring soon, unless you want to fall behind in school? Now go to bed, it's late," Sirius ordered. He gave his godson a kiss on his head, then turned and walked from the room.  
  
Harry watched him leave, and considered ignoring the older man's request before deciding that his godfather was right. Sleep was going to become a precious wish, and he needed to get it while he could. With one last loving look at the baby, he kissed his son gently and laid him back in the bassinet, whispering a tender sentiment to the sleeping child before heading the short distance across the room to his own bed.  
  
"Good-night James Draco, daddy loves you." 


End file.
